The past few days have been rough, I can’t deny. Almost constant slumber, under a tumbledown of dangerous ideas; the how to do it, the why to do it. Drowsy, I weigh a future with a heavy heart; drowsy, I find myself wanting. Life’s just feathers and blood, and no one makes it out of here alive.
For safety’s sake, I think, I sleep.
I sleep, and I dream; half awake I push myself under. Awake, I know how I feel. Asleep, I’m covered by confusion. Some kind of safety. The past few days have been rough, I can’t deny.
Milk sploshes, a-glup. Tea. I boil the kettle again – we’ve no hot water; the kitchen’s a state. Scrub the sink. Wipe the sides. Mop the floor.
I take out the bin. It’s a nice day, there’ll be people on the Common.
I sit. Tea. Browse the internet and slowly remember all the reasons I have for hating myself, and slowly remember the way I feel.
Depression, like a teenage tantrum, has once again thrown laundry hectic around my bedroom; pizza boxes and empty beer bottles. Black bin bag. Sort socks. Underwear. I have pants I’d totally forgotten about! I also have lovers I’ve totally forgotten about, but pants are more surprising.
Today has been a better day.
These results support the hypothesis that ruminative responses to depressed mood exacerbate and prolong depressed mood. whereas distracting responses shorten depressed mood.